


The One Who Brings Colour

by limeta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Hell, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: Tom Riddle is dead. It's good that Abraxas Malfoy is, as well.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	The One Who Brings Colour

Tom Riddle woke atop a hill in a land brimming with people. They all looked similarly built, but when one got close to them their features sharpened into variance and nuance each human could call their own.

The last thing he remembered was Harry Potter killing him. The green (he couldn’t recall the actual colour) killing curse had been painless to endure now that he thought about it. The night in 1981 had been the worst pain he could have ever felt. A bright light, pain, and then unbeing.

The people watched him. Some twisted up messily drawn frowns on their black and white visage. The whole world lacked colour. Tom looked around and found nothing that reminded him of life.

Through the maze of claustrophobic space and abundant people, he pushed them aside and crawled towards a small clearing, expecting to see something that was different. The people continued to watch him.

There was no sound.

There was no colour.

There was no smell.

There was only him. If the people had power of speech or movement he couldn't know. The moment he neared someone they only frowned and glared at him.

If at least he could see someone he knew to gauge if he belonged in hell or purgatory.

But the world did not allow him such privilege.

All he could do was to continue to move– because once he had stopped and then more people had sprung up to topple over him and trap him! His lungs filled with lack of air, but he could not remember breathing once this entire time.

Black tears sprang in his eyes as his white hands clawed towards freedom.

A spectre began following him after he had gotten free and run. He could not tire from moving or thinking. Once – only once – he had tried shouting for help. The spectre, interviewed with black and white glimpses across its form, had thrown him through a portal which spat him out atop the hill he had awoken on.

Tom turned on his heel and went into the opposite direction, then.

The same unmoving hate greeted him.

The spectre followed.

Tom ignored it.

Until it spoke and it was the first sound he had heard in what felt like eternity, but could very well be forever.

‘’You are looking for someone. Only when you are whole will you be able to find him.’’

Him? Tom wished to ask, but could not hear his own voice.

The spectre sensed his many questions, but disappeared instead of answering.

Tom Riddle moved and made it his duty to track down whomever it was he needed to find. The spectre had pulled a Dumbledore and been a very descriptive being that told him all he needed to know. Notice the sarcasm dripping from Tom Riddle’s thoughts.

He found a boy first. Sixteen and terrified.

Hadn’t he been sixteen when he’d killed?

Oh, Tom Riddle had a dawning realisation when the boy turned around and his face cleared up to show a young Tom Riddle staring back at his twisted, serpentine features.

He had been told to collect his horcruxes.

He had died eight times.

The spectre materialized behind young Tom Riddle and shoved him into the original causing Tom Riddle to feel each brush of his person against the people there to watch and crowd around him.

When he was whole?

Tom Riddle began to curse at his paranoid behaviour that had caused him to create so many horcruxes.

Next he found the Nagini horcrux. It was him, serpentine and mad; lacking the clarity Tom Riddle’s large soul-bit had given the original.

The spectre appeared and Tom Riddle could smell. The repulsive stench of each and every sweaty person around him made him wish he had saved this horcrux for last. Whilst gagging and retching he slithered towards another hill (or the same one, he could never tell what with there being no colour or detail).

Atop there he saw two of himself.

He’d made them around the same time. Cup and Diadem disappeared and Tom Riddle was hit with sound, both good because he could hear his voice and bad because – the people opened their mouths and began to  _ yell _ . They shouted at him and glared and reeked.

And he ran as quickly as his legs would carry him.

_ FILTHY MURDERER _

Walburga Black’s high voice shouted. His war had caused her family to disappear. His war had ended the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

_ MONSTER _

Many more screamed and wished him death and pain and suffering, as if he had not been dealt his just desserts?

Through bleariness and heightened adrenaline he passed by himself without noticing. It was an adolescent with messy hair that looked from an odd angle like Harry Potter. The fear tightened its grip on his throat and squeezed, causing his mind to muddle.

The spectre laughed and called itself Death whom he thought to cheat.

The next horcrux was the Gaunt ring, Tom Riddle could recognize him because the horcrux looked like a desperate orphan that longed for a family, but was denied.

After this one, grey began to pool into a sea of black and white.

He re-found the Harry Potter horcrux more quickly for it shone grey.

Afterwards a grey string glowed from around his waist leading him to his final horcrux.

They met halfway. It was the locket horcrux. Tom Riddle grew incessantly tired of having to hunt down all of these stray pieces of his soul. The shouting grew, but it wasn’t until he reabsorbed the cross-eyed horcrux that looked most like his mother that the people gained movement.

One punched him in the face, having him fall over.

Death watched.

He closed his eyes and felt  _ pain _ . One so strong that shattered his mind and rocked his senses into disarray.

Darkness enveloped him when he couldn’t control his movement or mind. The people neared menacingly ready to exact their vengeance upon him so powerless. Sans magic and a means to protect himself.

Every defensive and offensive spell he’d ever cast crossed his mind, but when he tried to verbalize the incantation or perform wandlessly, nothing happened. Because his body had forgotten magic. Or his body was incapable of performing it, like he had devolved into a muggle.

That thought frightened him more than these miscreants beating him into unconsciousness.

His last slipping thought – for he would not dare beg them to stop or plead with them and ruin his reputation as a strong dark lord – ended with a lilting, high voice saying ‘’Excuse me!’’

The voice continued hitting his mind as the blows fell and the screams hollowed out his skull.

‘’Incandescence demands you move away, thank you!’’

A man drenched in grey with grey hair and grey eyes and grey robes and grey smiles shoved an attacker away and greeted, ‘’Hello, Tom Riddle. You make a beautiful sight so powerless.’’

Outstretching his hand for Tom Riddle to take, the grey man pulled him up to stand on shaky feet. Upon their contact the whole world whirled from grey to red and blue and green and yellow and pink and purple and orange and more!

Platinum blond hair and silver eyes with a twinkling yellowed smile formed the face of one and only Abraxas Malfoy.

Magic flared form within Tom Riddle finally and his hell ended. With one swooping gesture the people that attacked fell away at his magical might, subjugated and frozen.

Death watched them, multicoloured and finally ready to take them where they needed to go.

It seemed easier to face his greatest fears while not alone.

Abraxas didn’t let go of Tom’s hand and the dark lord didn’t try to shake their joint grip off.


End file.
